The Rape of the Lock
by Hale Comet
Summary: A darkish fic about Draco's great quest to the pinnacle of his power and Hermione's journey to rock bottom of her soul. (NOT a DH shipper. Sorry. DMmade-up character, RWHG, HPGW)
1. Tragically Romantic Train Ride

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Prologue- Tragically Romantic Train Ride  
  
Just a reminder: this story is rated 'R' for sex, language, and violence in later chapters.  
  
If you enjoy it, hate it, or read it at all please drop me a line by clicking 'review'. (Hale Comet)  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
The last year at Hogwarts. The last year in her life to be a child, to be free of obligation, to roam the halls and take innocent delight in their trickery. The last time to play with Harry and Ron, before everyone went their separate ways.  
  
Soon, they would graduate, and take positions with the Ministry of Magic, at some wizardly publication, for some Quidditch team, or undercover in the muggle world. Everyone was so tremendously excited about graduation, even on the train to school in the Fall! Just imagine what it will be like just after Christmas break!  
  
Or don't imagine. Hermione tried to think of this as a happy time, one where she could share in her friends' excitement. Oh, nothing tragic ever happened to Hermione. Nothing really. She was so smart, top marks, she'll go far. A tear fell in her lap. She didn't want to go at all.  
  
Out there, in the world, how was she to find her place? She was smart enough to be first in her class, yes-- but she was also smart enough to know that there would be no class ranking when she left Hogwarts. Nobody would know her genius with books, or her sharp analytical mind. Without her smarts to hide behind, nobody knew who she was. Not even Hermione.  
  
So, during the train ride, she pretended to smile when she was really gritting her teeth, and laughed to remind herself that she would feel better soon, that travel, especially on trains, always makes people tragic romantics for a time. She bit her lip to stop the pricks behind her eyes, and wished she could make them bright like Ron's, wise like Harry's, instead of sharp and clouded and lonely.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
"Head Girl!" yelled Ron at the feast, "why in Hell didn't you tell us?"  
  
"I-- I guess I just forgot," blushed Hermione.  
  
Harry smiled at her. "Well, bully for you, anyway. I knew you had it all along."  
  
Hermione studied her fork absentmindedly. "All that responsibility. Hate to think of what it will do to my studies."  
  
"Oh, shut up. You know you love it." Ron pulled out a childish insult.  
  
"Oh, all the sudden you know how I feel?" Hermione joked back automatically, and gave a little apologetic gasp at the look on Ron's face.  
  
Harry, ignorant for the moment of the undertones of the conversation, was studying Hermione's schedule and scowling. "You're taking almost all different classes than Ron and me."  
  
"I know, it couldn't be helped. I've been taking extra credits for the past couple years, you know that, so I've already had the ones you guys were signed up for."  
  
Ron looked disappointed. "I suppose there's always eating."  
  
Hermione looked away. Always, Ron? Really? Is that what you think? Maybe that's why everyone else is taking this so well. She didn't want to say it out loud . . . Ron was being so pleasant after their ordeal the year before. One failed romance couldn't spoil a six-year friendship.   
  
But Hermione found it a bit difficult to talk to him about anything deep without feeling his lips on hers, and his fingers brushing her neck. Oh, funny Ron, oh, friendly Ron, oh, forgotten brother Ron. Deep as an ocean, and if she ever opened up to him she'd find herself swimming again.  
  
--------------------  
  
Author's Note: For anyone who's familiar with this story, it has been slightly revised. A few parts have been changed (some even due to reader reviews!) and chapters have been consolidated (except for the first, which acts here as a prologue). Thanks to everyone who reads, and keep on! 


	2. A Challenge for your Addled Minds

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Chapter 2: A Challende for Your Addled Minds  
  
Just a Reminder-- this story is rated 'R'.  
  
& I love you.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione found her new classes enjoyable in spite of herself. She had been unfortunately unable to make a schedule without Snape's History of Potions in it somewhere, but to her surprise it quickly became something she looked forward to. Hermione was an avid fan of history of any sort, and without Harry in the class, and with members of all four houses present, Snape wasn't so mean. Not that he was giving out sweets or anything, but he wasn't taking points from her for blinking anymore, which she considered a plus.   
  
However, Malfoy, who had been steadily climbing in class rank, was openly academically challenging her in class, and Snape did nothing to stop it. So far she had managed to come out on top, but she saw him gaining knowledge quickly, especially in anything having to do with potions. Malfoy had decided that he was going to be a potions master, so he sat in potions classes almost all day with Snape, and was learning the subject faster than Hermione.  
  
On the first day of October, Professor Snape began the class with an announcement. "It is my unfortunate lack of luck to be burdened with sponsorship of a challenge for your addled minds."  
  
Hermione perked up.  
  
"A few of you miscreants will be selected to take part in a school-wide academic contest we're calling the Cogito. The winner will earn honor for his or her house, and exemption from mid-terms."   
  
Everyone started tittering excitedly, while Hermione was momentarily depressed. She had been looking forward to mid-terms! She had already memorized loads of--  
  
"Silence! I'm not finished yet! It will begin in four weeks, and last until the finals in two weeks before holiday. You are all expected to submit to testing for selection, which will commence shortly. However, not today, today we will be studying the fifth century, when Baron Gutermuth devised an amusing little potion which causes the victim to actually fall into an undetectable suggestive state. Today we call it Amicus Non-Dormiens Juice . . ."  
  
The class was subdued at the mention of 'testing,' while Hermione's tide of excitement only rose. A contest, finally a contest I could do well in! Not like quidditch or chess! Of course, it was only a momentary escape from the real word, but she'd take her breaks where she could get them.  
  
She looked over out the window. Malfoy caught her eye, and she quickly looked back at her book.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Draco instinctively turned away just as Hermione had when their eyes met. He looked at his book, stared really, not actually reading. Why did they even need to have this contest? It was obvious that Granger would win. Even over him. He shuddered at the thought.  
  
Lost in angry reverie, Draco was left staring at his book in a now empty classroom. He was startled by Professor Snape. "Can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"Um, no Sir." Draco, caught wrong-footed, thought for a moment while collecting his books. "Well, actually, maybe, Sir."  
  
"Continue," the professor prompted.  
  
"It's about the Cogito." After all, Draco thought, Professor Snape had mentioned honor for the winner's house. This gave him a perfect lead to tell Draco a secret, to help him win.  
  
"Yes. Unpleasant for me to be in the position of aiding Gryffindor to yet another victory."   
  
"Sir?"   
  
"I'm sure you are aware of Miss Granger's, ahem, academic status, Mr. Malfoy."   
  
"Yes, but --" This wasn't going properly at all.   
  
"And you can imagine my disappointment that my own house, in six years, has not provided it's own intellectual, ahem, counterweight." Professor Snape's eyes gleamed.  
  
Oh, this is great, thought Malfoy. He knew the professor would probably be vague; as sponsor of the event he couldn't be seen or heard giving help to any of the students specially. But what he had just told Draco didn't sound too much like a hidden message. Well, it was slightly reminiscent of a veiled insult. "Gee, Draco," the professor meant, "You're too dumb to beat a mudblood. Imagine my disappointment."  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Staring at the letter in her hands, Hermione felt strangely disconnected from the world. This was not her life, these were not her hands, whose letter was this? But it was addressed Hermione Granger, care of Hogwarts, and she read it in confusion and childish anger over and over again.  
  
Hermione, Your father and I want you to know that we love you very much, and that our decision has nothing to do with you. We've decided that the best thing would be for us to separate, it's just becoming too difficult. I think, after your last summer with us, you might agree. However, I know you'll still be terribly upset, and there's nothing wrong with that. We've been told that you have wonderful friends in the students as well as the professors at school, and I hope you can take comfort in them. Love, Mom  
  
Terribly upset? Home was the last thing she had to cling to, that would still be there after graduation inflicted its horrors upon her. Yes, she was terribly upset. She began to cry. Terribly, terribly, terribly upset.   
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Draco walked back to his dormitory, still upset about his encounter with Professor Snape. Honestly! It wasn't his fault he wasn't all brainy like Granger. And the professor could have at least have given him a clue-- Draco's eyes narrowed. What exactly had he said? 'my own house, in six years, has not provided it's own intellectual counterweight.'  
  
Maybe Professor Snape had helped him out after all.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione, alone in her dormitory, was lost in thought. She had the bed curtains pulled around her, and she sat holding her knees to her chin.  
  
"Nothing terribly bad has happened," she whispered to herself. "Yet." She fought to keep composure, to find the part within herself who wanted to do the homework that was spread on the bed around her. But all she found were things that scared her-- numbness here, a blank spot there, a panic . . . and more than anything, she felt alone.  
  
"Ho, Hermione," Harry called unsurely, at the door to her dorm. "All right if I come in?"  
  
Hermione scolded herself silently, wiping away childish tears. "Of course, Harry."  
  
"You didn't come to supper." Harry looked at her, puzzled. "We wondered where you'd gone."  
  
Hermione looked at the clock. Five minutes ago, it had only been three o' clock! But it was six-thirty now. She stared at the clock, feeling betrayed.  
  
"Hermione, is this about Ron?" Harry sat down on the bed next to her, and looked at her with concern.  
  
She looked at him carefully, mournfully, as if she knew he would die in a few moments. Or as if she would. "Ron? Oh, no. Not Ron." She studied her hands. They seemed far away. She was amazed that they still moved the way she wanted them to. She smirked a little. "Why? Is he still on about me?"  
  
Harry kept looking at her like she had grown a second, or maybe a third head. "Are you all right?"  
  
"No. Are you?"  
  
"What? Of course."  
  
"Of course? Harry, what will you do after these few months are over? When you don't have Dumbledore and Hagrid and McGonagall and Ron and me and Hogwarts to save you from your family? From You-Know-Who?" Hermione made an annoyed sound, her frustration escaping her throat without forming words.  
  
Harry stood, shocked. Frankly, he had spent the past six years trying to avoid one near-death situation after another. There hadn't ever been time for him to ponder tomorrow, beyond whether he would spend it alive or dead.  
  
"You're little, Harry. You think you're six feet tall and play quidditch and keep in shape, but Harry, you're so small. It's going to eat you alive."  
  
"Hermione, are you seeing things? Has something told you something?"  
  
"Nobody needs to tell me anything. I can see for myself. Such a clever witch, I think you'll agree."  
  
"Hermione, what's going on?"  
  
"Ron said always, Harry. Tell him . . . tell him he's wrong, please." Before Harry could speak again, she got up off the bed and went towards the door. "I'm hungry, I'm going to see what can be done about that."  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Ron and Harry sat in the common room late that night, unable to sleep.  
  
"She said to tell you that you said always, and that you were wrong," Harry said blankly. "Does that mean anything to you?"  
  
Ron thought for a moment. "No. I don't think so."  
  
"What do you think about this Cogito thing?" Harry tried to change the subject. It was obvious that Ron still doted on Hermione, which was making Harry uncomfortable.  
  
Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Seems weird that they just thought of it this year, though. Only for the seventh years, and you're a seventh year. Most of the oddness gravitates around you."  
  
"Maybe. I think I should get involved in it. At the least to keep an eye on Hermione. For some reason I don't think Voldemort's involved in some little reincarnation of 'It's Academic.'"  
  
Ron looked at him, puzzled at the cultural reference.  
  
------------------- 


	3. You Know What Happens to Little Girls

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Chapter 3: You Know What Happens to Little Girls  
  
Just a reminder-- This story is rated 'R'.  
  
Please do me a favor and review me after you read!  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Days went by, and Hermione didn't say anything about the letter from her parents. Who was she to speak to? Harry thought she had gone bug-shagging crazy, and Ron was obviously out of the question. Ginny . . . Well, she just didn't quite trust Ginny with this sort of thing.  
  
Students were being called out of classes one at a time, to go to Snape's office and be tested for entrance to the Cogito. When Hermione's name was called, she got up and went determinedly. This contest seemed like the only chance to prove to Harry that she wasn't crazy, to make Ron stop worrying, to prove to everyone that she was still Hermione . . . at least for the time being.   
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Draco was pleased to see the Slytherin common room empty. He had hoped to go into his meeting in Professor Snape's office armed with the fruits of the clue. But, he reminded himself, there may be none. It could all be in his head.  
  
Professor Snape had said something about a counterweight in his own house. Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Snape's house, had been notoriously reclusive and did not enjoy associating with his colleagues, especially in the later years of his life. Slytherin isolated himself in the tower, and took his meals through a dumbwaiter he had installed. So, the Slytherin tower was the only one with a dumbwaiter. A dumbwaiter that worked via a system of counterweights.  
  
Draco, checking a second time for anyone loitering about the common room, went over to the door of the dumbwaiter and opened it, pulling the compartment up to his level. He carefully inspected the box with his eyes, then his fingers. He pulled it up and inspected the bottom. Aha! There was the mark of a snake, the signature of Slytherin. Nearby was a latch, that opened to reveal a small, flat compartment that Draco opened carefully, so that the contents did not fall down the dumbwaiter shaft to the kitchen.  
  
In it was a scrap of parchment, with a poem written in a sharp hand. Draco read it curiously:   
  
A chance will arise to prove he is wise  
  
To be defeated will earn him no prize  
  
However, to triumph is also defeat  
  
If there be no desire to hold the seat  
  
Lay down one head forever from the pride  
  
A lock from the mane you must divide  
  
Proof of your wisdom, of your daring  
  
Last, that of loyalty must be swearing  
  
The coat of scales will rest upon you  
  
And true success in the tasks you choose  
  
A prophecy? A promise? Who was he to swear to? He shook his head. He'd figure it out. Meanwhile, he needed to get to the meeting with Professor Snape. He shoved the parchment into his robe pocket and hurried off.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione gathered up her books; she had been trying to make the best of her time in Advanced Arithmancy by making a list of the things she needed to be doing to fulfill her duties as a prefect. Having to make the list alarmed her-- she had never needed reminders like that before. She told herself, though, that she had never been this busy before, at least not without the aid of a time turner.  
  
Walking into Snape's office, she almost felt like the old Hermione. The rush of adrenaline that flooded her at the thought of a test, the thought of her triumph at the end. She started to smile, but stopped when she saw who she was taking the test with.  
  
"I thought it would be, erm, interesting, Miss Granger, if my two top students were to test together," Snape told her as she sat. "Mr. Malfoy has agreed, do you?"  
  
Hermione didn't see any other option available to her. "Of course." She set her books on the floor next to her chair.  
  
"We'll be conducting this test orally. First person to give me the correct answer will be marked for points."  
  
Hermione looked over at Malfoy. He was glaring back at her, a superior glint in his eye. She looked back at Snape, who was preparing to ask the first question."  
  
"We'll start with the section on Magical Creatures. How might one tell a Crup from a muggle Jack Russel Terrier?"  
  
"A Crup has two tails," Malfoy blurted immediately.  
  
Hermione blinked, shocked as the words on the tip of her tongue were said by another. He was lucky, she told herself, and he had more time to compose himself before Snape attacked-- or, rather, tested them.  
  
"Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Next question: Name a non-humanoid creature who uses human language."  
  
"A Jarvey, Sir." Malfoy was beaming-- well, smirking, actually, at Hermione.  
  
Hermione forgot even to shut her mouth. This couldn't possibly be happening. What was going on? She was getting stupid, that was it. Malfoy was never smarter than her before. She scolded herself. You're worrying so much about your identity apart from academics that you don't even have a life in academics anymore. Hermione was in the process of attempting to refuse to believe herself when Snape addressed her.  
  
"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" To his credit, Snape looked like he was really trying not to laugh at Hermione, who was still sitting with her mouth agape. Malfoy, strangely, wasn't laughing either. He was staring at her with what looked like fascination.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Draco never thought he could inflict this on someone! It was fabulous. Granger was going to have a nervous breakdown right in front of him. The only thing better would be if Potter was here to see him do it. He sighed. Things couldn't always be perfect. Granger shut her mouth dazedly.  
  
"Continuing on, then: What is the smallest known breed of Dragon?"  
  
Malfoy almost let Hermione speak, but she was moving so slowly. "Peruvian Vipertooth, Sir."  
  
He and Professor Snape shared a glance, and when Draco looked back over at Hermione, or, rather, at her chair, all he saw was a flash of black robes quickly leaving the office. He looked back at Snape, who shrugged.  
  
"You know Miss Granger will be admitted into the contest anyway, at the very least to make things, ahem, easier for you."  
  
Malfoy nodded.  
  
"With her erratic behavior, and with her inevitable, at least preliminary, domination at the Cogito, she will take attention away from you. To do, ahem, whatever you must."  
  
Malfoy nodded again, his hand going to his pocket for the parchment.  
  
"No!" Snape snapped. "No, no, need to thank me for my help, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you go and . . . study."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Harry and Ron were sitting in Charms, when something caught Harry's eye out the window.  
  
"Who's that?" he nudged Ron, who looked over.  
  
"Dunno. But they run like a girl."  
  
"Ron, that's Hermione." Sure enough, it was Miss Granger flying across the castle grounds toward . . . Hagrid's cabin?  
  
"Can't be. She has Arithmancy now."  
  
Harry gave him a look that meant 'don't you remember Hermione's gone bonkers?'  
  
Ron's brow furrowed, and he looked out the window again. "It is her."  
  
After class, they followed the same path she had, running full-out. When they got to Hagrid's cabin, he opened the door to them.  
  
"Well, now, gettin' all kinds o' visitors today!" the giant greeted them.  
  
Ron nodded worriedly. "Is Hermione here?"  
  
"Ah, no, she wen' back to the castle a little while ago. Why don' you two come in an' have tea, though?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Sorry, Hagrid, we'll have to do that later. I think it's important we find Hermione."  
  
"All righ', Harry. You know wha's best. Le' me know if I can 'elp."  
  
"Sure thing, Hagrid."  
  
The boys, still panting from their first sprint, raced back to the castle.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione sat on the roof of Gryffindor tower, a special privilege of the head girl, as her room was the highest. She was letting the tears fall in her lap without stopping them. No one would see her up here, though Harry and Ron were sure to look.  
  
Hagrid had been nice. Infuriatingly nice. 'Upset abou' Ron agin, 'ermione?' Right. 'Aw, parents can be tough, though. I shou' know.'  
  
She just wanted someone to really understand, not just be understanding. Not patronize her, like she was some madwoman.  
  
Hermione didn't want to move, but she needed to feel something. She formed an image in her mind, so sharp she could taste it, and withdrew her wand from her robes. "Accio!"  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Harry and Ron sat in the Gryffindor common room, again worried about Hermine. She had barely spoken to them, even at meals, since Harry had walked in on her crying. When they returned from Hagrid's, Hermione's door was locked, presumably with Hermione behind it.  
  
Harry sighed. "What are we supposed to do? She's being impossible."  
  
"She's just really upset. I'm not sure about what, but she's really upset." Ron leaned back against the couch uncomfortably.  
  
"I don't care how upset she is! It's not like sometimes before, when we would ignore her and she'd run to Hagrid or your brothers or Ginny or whoever. We're here to talk to, but we don't push her. We let her have her privacy, but give her our support. What the hell else are we supposed to do?"  
  
Ron agreed. "It's not like Hermione. But she'd do it for us, you know that."  
  
"I don't know if either of us could be this . . . weird. I just want her to talk to us. Why'd she lock herself in her room?"  
  
Ron paled. "Harry, you don't think she would . . ." the sentence was too scary to finish.  
  
"I . . . don't know." Harry shook his head. Ron just stared at his hands. There was nothing they could do.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
It took all of Draco's energy to keep from laughing evilly at the look on Weasley's face. The line kept repeating in his head, making him grin so hard it hurt. 'Harry, you don't think she would . . .' Poor Weasel.  
  
He snuck out of the Gryffindor common room. Luckily, both Potter and Weasley had their backs to the portrait-hole. Draco hugged the folder that Hermione, in her haste to leave Snape's office, had left behind. It had her list of Prefect duties written in tiny, even script. 'Have a talk with the first-year boys about teasing. Console Francine (mother is terribly ill). Change portrait password to 'fizzing whizbees.' So simple. All laid out for him. Fate.  
  
Finally reaching the door to the Slytherin common room, he concealed the folder in his robes and went through. He was satisfied to find Crabbe and Goyle waiting for him on a couch.  
  
"Don't ask me any questions. Just pull me up on this thing until it won't pull anymore, and then don't tell anyone you did it. I can get back down on my own." Draco opened the door to the dumbwaiter and climbed in. It was a little bit of a tight fit, but it was a big dumbwaiter. He shut the door and felt himself being pulled jerkily up, up, up.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione stared at the knife she had in her hand. Again, she was disconnected from the world. She couldn't feel anything. It was all . . . Foggy. Except for the thin red line welling up from her arm. It felt so good to feel something! Anything! She was crying even harder as she brought the knife across her skin again, and began to laugh.  
  
A world was coming back to her. Not her world, not the bright happy one with the nice feelings and the good report cards. But a world nonetheless, one where she could belong, and the knife wasn't patronizing her like Harry and Ron. She traced the cuts on her arm with a finger, and felt the sting. Wonderful! She was good at this!  
  
Suddenly, she heard footsteps on the roof of the castle behind her. Before she could turn around, a pale hand flicked the knife out of her own. Someone was standing behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, grabbing her roughly, and held the knife to her throat.  
  
She could feel his breath on her shoulder. Well, this was certainly feeling something. Hermione wasn't sure she cared if he put pressure on the knife or not.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Draco felt, well, he didn't quite know how. Bloody amazing was all he could think of. He could kill this girl, right here and now, and nobody would ever know it was him. He could literally get away with murder. With this death-chick vibe Granger was giving off, everyone would assume she had offed herself.  
  
He couldn't believe it. He was actually getting physically aroused at the sight of the bleeding cuts on her arms, the sound of the little gasps of her breathing, and the smell of imminent death on her throat, where his nose was pressed. Draco was amused at his body's reaction to the thought of the blood from her throat running over the cobbles at the top of the tower, over his hands. He wondered if Granger could feel him, pressed against her was he was.  
  
"Granger. Fancy meeting you here."  
  
She sniffed and to Draco's amusement, he realized she had been crying. "What a surprise. Should have baked a cake."  
  
Oh, this was less fun, her being all composed about this. Even sarcastic. "Shut up, mudblood! I'm talking."  
  
Granger was silent. He continued. "Right now, from now on, you know I can kill you. Anytime I want. I will find you. And no-one will ever know."  
  
"You'll tell them I cut myself, that I told you not to tell anyone, that you're so sorry, that it's all your fault, everything except that you made the final cut."  
  
Draco had to give the girl credit. She really was a genius. "Exactly, Pet." He lifted his head a bit to whisper in her ear. "So you don't tell that we had this little meeting, and I won't tell about your little secret. After all, they certainly won't let a lunatic be prefect. You wouldn't want to be sent home before the contest. What's there for you at home?"  
  
"No." Granger whispered.  
  
He pulled her roughly towards him again, holding the knife against her neck as close as he could without breaking her skin. This was so wonderful it was killing him. He was going to have wet dreams for weeks about this! "You know what happens to little girls who break their promises," he whispered, taking a sharp nip at her earlobe that drew blood.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Malfoy shoved her away roughly, and she stood stunned as he threw the knife down at her feet and spat, then disappeared down the trapdoor into her room. She sat down on the roof, crying anew. Crying because Malfoy had almost killed her. Crying because she had wanted him to.  
  
-------------------------- 


	4. An Ear Thing

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Chapter four: An Ear Thing  
  
Reminder: Story rated 'R'. Feet on ground, head in air.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Draco calmly went down the stairs and strided through the Gryffindor common room as if he belonged there. He felt on top of the world.  
  
"Malfoy," Potter addressed him curtly. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Well, Potter, I was leaving, but if you'd like me to stay . . ."  
  
Then Weasley joined in. "Oh, you'll leave. After you tell us how you got in and what you were doing here."  
  
"Granger helped me in." Draco surprised himself. That was actually the truth. "We needed to have a little talk. We're in Potions together, you know." Potter and Weasley still blocked his way, glaring at him. "May I go?" He raised an eyebrow at the two as he passed.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Harry couldn't see any reason to make him stay. He stood aside, and motioned for Ron to do the same. They watched Malfoy leave through the portrait hole.  
  
"Hermione really has gone mad," Ron lamented.  
  
"What would she talk to Malfoy about?"  
  
Ron sat back down on the couch heavily. "You're assuming he told us the truth."  
  
"You're right," Harry admitted. "But you do believe she let him in."  
  
"Yeah. I mean, why else would he say that? He hates her almost more than us."  
  
Harry stood up. "Well, I guess we'll just have to ask Hermione, then."  
  
Ron gave him a look to imply, 'We've been over this. Hermione's bug-shagging crazy.'  
  
"We've no other choice, Ron."  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione took her time on the top of the tower. She didn't know where to begin to pick herself up after whatever had happened. She could have killed herself, but she didn't. Malfoy could have killed her, but he didn't. Stupid good-for-nothing knife.  
  
She started. The knife! Where had she Accio'ed that knife from? Hermione tried to think of where she had seen it last. The spell didn't make things appear out of thin air, they had to be real objects that were somewhere else, then they were magically attracted to the incatator of the spell. She frowned when she saw the right memory. Hagrid's cabin. The knife was Hagrid's.  
  
With a sigh and a hope that Hagrid was out of the cabin or too drunk to believe his eyes when the knife had gone flying out the window, Hermione used the trap door that Malfoy had gone down a minute-- no, an hour-- no, a day before? The sun was down. She suspected she might have fallen asleep after her cry.  
  
Back in her room, she brightened at the sight of a note from Ron and Harry under the door. She had had one of these every time she skipped a meal in the last week, since Harry had come and spoken to her. However, all the others rested as ashes in the trash can-- she could read in them, as surely as the black and white writing, the way the boys were walking on eggshells, were patronizing her in her distress. This one, she opened and read.  
  
Hermione--  
  
You weren't at supper tonight again. This thing you're doing is really starting to annoy us. [at this point, Ron must have stolen the quill from Harry, because the letter continued in his sloppier hand] We understand you're upset, but both of us wish you would talk to us and stop freezing us out. And what was the deal with Malfoy in our tower?  
  
Talk to you later (hopefully),  
  
Ron & Harry  
  
Hermione shocked herself and grinned. They were finally getting worried enough to tell her the truth, although Ron was being a little more tactful than Harry.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Draco had eaten dinner with the sweet taste of an enemy's blood on his lips. He didn't fully understand why he had bitten her. It had been an impulse, and he despised impulses. Malfoys had a plan, especially in dealing with matters of this nature. But, in retrospect, he prided himself at the action; a bit of playfulness made an overt act of violence that much more scary to the victim.   
  
Oh, he had longed to kill her, to watch her turn pale and cold and stiffen with Death's tight embrace. But Draco had style, a finesse and grace in these situations that would allow him to mentally torture unstable Granger as long as he enjoyed it before he finally laid down a lion from the pride.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione took a long shower to wash the blood from her arms and Malfoy's breath from her neck. It gave her time to think about the past week or so, and she didn't like what she was thinking about. She had completed her class assignments perfunctorily, but hadn't done any extra studying for the Cogito. The pink water at her feet made her sad and sick and sorry for herself. With a sigh she shut off the water, then performed a quick bandaging spell on her arms.  
  
She was almost disappointed in herself, because when it really came down to it, at the moment when she really thought Malfoy would slice her neck, something had risen within her. She hadn't wanted to die. The feeling of a desperate struggle to stay alive was still in her, clearing her head for the moment. In contrast to the past few days, she felt everything acutely: the pain she must have caused Harry and Ron, the shock at herself for her behavior, the thoughts racing through her head about Malfoy, and looming above it all like an inevitable thunderstorm, the void waiting for her whole universe after graduation.   
  
Dressed in long sleeves and a sweater, Hermione bounded downstairs, suddenly desperate to make human contact, and almost bowled over Ron and Harry at the bottom of the stairs.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron took a step forward.  
  
"Yes? Who else would I be?"  
  
Ron suddenly threw his arms around her. "I thought you were going to . . ."  
  
She pulled out of the hug, holding Ron at arm's length. "Going to what?"  
  
"Starve to death?" Harry suggested nervously.  
  
Hermione looked bemused. "That's . . . kind of you."  
  
"Sorry." Ron looked away.  
  
Harry looked closely at what appeared to be the side of Hermione's head.  
  
"Yes, Harry? I think I might go back up there if everyone's just going to look at me funny."  
  
"Is your ear bleeding?"  
  
Hermione put a finger to her ear. "Oh, that. A, a-- slight earring mishap."  
  
Harry nodded. "Ah," he said sagely, still not sure what to say to her.  
  
"Now, if you two don't mind, I've got a load of studying to catch up on. I'll be in the library if you need me."  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Ron was slowly turning red. As soon as Hermione went out the portrait hole, Ron started towards it, with Harry at his heels. Ron, who had longer legs, was striding so fast Harry was jogging to keep up with him.  
  
"Ron, where are we going?" Harry inquired as they entered the hall.  
  
Ron kept going along the corridor. "To kill Malfoy."  
  
"Um, not that I don't agree with that general premise, but is there any particular reason?"  
  
"Hermione doesn't wear earrings." He snorted in anger.  
  
Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder and spun him around. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Malfoy was in our tower, Harry. Upstairs. In Hermione's room. And she doesn't wear earrings."  
  
Harry shook his head. "You're going to have to give me more details. You think Malfoy hurt her?"  
  
"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, if he was trying to hurt her, why would he go for her earlobes?" Ron almost smiled, then remembered himself and turned it into a scowl.  
  
"Yeah, that was pretty much my point." Harry shook his head, trying to put together the fragments Ron was giving him.  
  
"Harry, no offense, but you're being a little dense."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry if I don't understand why you want to kill someone because he didn't hurt your ex-girlfriend."  
  
If it was possible, Ron got even redder. "Hermione has an ear . . . thing."  
  
"Have you gone insane? What's an ear thing?"  
  
"Egads, Harry, do I have to spell it out for you?"  
  
"Apparently."  
  
"Hermione likes it when a guy, like, when you're snogging, when you, um . . ." Ron looked like he was trying to sink into the floor.  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open. "Stop! Ron, please stop."  
  
Ron sighed heavily. "Glad to."  
  
"So you think that Hermione and Malfoy were . . .?" Harry was trying desperately not to laugh.  
  
Ron looked indignant. "Well, yeah. You have a better explanation?"  
  
"But that can't be it, Ron. I don't know why she lied to us about her ear, but Malfoy hates her. And she hates him."  
  
"So her ear just got all upset at itself and sprang a bleeder?"  
  
"Yes, I mean, no, of course not. Maybe she did something clumsy and is embarrassed by it."  
  
"Maybe. But your theory doesn't explain Hermione's weird moods or her letting Malfoy into our tower. Mine does. Plus, it gives me a really good excuse to kill him."  
  
"That's true." Harry took hold of Ron's arm and began to lead him back to the tower. "But let's hold off on killing Malfoy until we have a teensy bit more proof."  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione pinched the cut on her ear and shuddered. Why had she lied to Ron and Harry? To protect herself? Three would be much better protection than one. But she knew the truth. It was because she knew, that on some fundamental level, in telling them about Draco she would have to tell them her other secrets, too. She didn't want their pity, and she didn't want to have to be ashamed. More ashamed than she already was.  
  
She shook her head. The Cogito would begin on Monday, which meant she only had this weekend to study! Hermione quickened her pace towards the library, mentally making lists of books to read.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Draco lay in bed that night, going over the next step in his plan. He had to keep Granger scared enough to comply, but not scared enough to tell Potter and Weasley. He had to keep her feeling small about her little secret, so that she wouldn't suddenly get all empowered or whatever the girls were babbling about these days. Most importantly, he had to make her trust him, to fit into his plan. He pushed Mindy off him and turned over. If Granger was as smart as she let on, that was going to be a problem. Mindy scrambled for her clothes and snuck out the door. Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Ron shook his head as he sat down to dinner on Saturday evening. "She won't come to supper."  
  
Harry looked up from his plate. "She hasn't locked herself in her room again, has she?"  
  
"No, but she has built a little fort with books in the library." He took a sip of his juice. "It's pretty cool, actually. She said we could play in it la--"  
  
Harry interrupted, "Don't you think she's beating her brain a little hard for this thing?"  
  
"Nah. She's just back to normal old Hermione, if-it-isn't-in-a-book-I'm-not-interested."  
  
Harry furrowed his brow. "She has to eat something."  
  
"She's seventeen. Her I.Q. is like four hundred. I'm sure she's got that figured out, Harry."  
  
"Something just doesn't feel right . . . I'm worried about her."  
  
"Worried about who?" Ginny plonked down beside Ron, who rolled his eyes in apology to Harry.  
  
"Hermione," Harry sighed. "She's studying awfully hard for the Cogito."  
  
Ginny nodded. "Almost as hard as Malfoy. He's been in the library all week."  
  
Both Ron and Harry instinctively looked at the Slytherin table. No Malfoy. Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry behind Ginny's back.  
  
Harry nodded at Ron. "Let's take her some food then, when we finish."  
  
Ginny looked at Harry, then Ron. "One day you guys are going to have to let me in on things."  
  
"And that's the day you get sent back to Mum in a box. It's dangerous, Ginny."  
  
"I'm only a year younger than you! You and Harry were messing about with You-Know-Who when you were eleven."  
  
"And so," Harry said in a low voice, "were you. You don't want to go back there again."  
  
Ginny raised her chin. "I don't see why you do either, then."  
  
"S'not You-Know-Who, anyway, it's just Malfoy," Ron said, then quickly shut up at the look Harry gave him.  
  
Ginny's interest was piqued. "Just Malfoy?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Nice one, Ron."  
  
Ginny grinned her victory and giggled into her potatoes. Ron resisted the urge to smack the back of her head.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione bit her bottom lip, giving her quill a rest from her teeth, and shut the book. As she looked up from the books and was facing . . . more books. She had indeed built herself a sort-of fort of cast-off books. There was someone a few tables over studying in a similar structure, but that one looked a little less haphazard. A little more like they were trying to hide something. She started towards the other pile of books, but was stopped by a younger girl in her path.  
  
"Oh, hello Francine."  
  
Francine sniffed. "H'lo, Hermione."  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"Not so much." Francine sniffed again.  
  
Hermione sat down with her in the fort and began to stroke the girl's hair. "How's your mum?"  
  
"Sick. Everyone's home with her except for me."  
  
"Oh, that must be horrible for you."  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Draco sat in his nearby book-walled hideout and spied on the girls. He actually had been studying for the past week, which he despised. But he got off on the sight of Granger wishing to melt into the floor when he knew the answer and she didn't. After all, knowledge is power, and he'd take all the power he could get.  
  
He went back to his books, poring over a particularly difficult history passage. When he next looked up, the two Gryffindor girls were emerging from Hermione's stack. Draco wanted to vomit. They had braided each other's hair.  
  
Granger was heading past his stack, no doubt to get more books from the shelves. He reached out a hand as she passed and grabbed a pigtail, dragging her into his lair. He smirked. She knew better than to scream, almost like she had been expecting this all along.  
  
"I like these," he said, tugging a little on her braid. "Convenient."  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?"  
  
"Now, now, Miss. Let's not get too cocky."  
  
"You're hurting me."  
  
"My mistake. I thought you enjoyed . . . Pain." He punctuated his words by sharply pulling her hair.  
  
Her face was flushed. She was holding back her reactions. Draco narrowed his eyes. "While I enjoy these encounters from the pure pleasure of your company, there is a little business we need to attend to."  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione couldn't help but tremble as she stood there waiting. She could feel him pressed against her, front to front. His steely gray eyes locked with hers. Malfoy put his hand in his pant pocket, and he was standing so close to her that she could feel his hand rooting in it. She wanted to scream and cry and break down, but something within her, thin as tissue, but still there, was keeping her from faltering.  
  
Malfoy thrust his hand down the front of her skirt, and she involuntarily gave a sharp gasp. The tissue paper was broken. Her mouth stayed open. His eyes never left hers, though he began to smile. When he opened his mouth to speak, it broke the spell, and she automatically pushed him away as hard as she could. He didn't fall, but he stepped back and let go of her hair.  
  
"You did all this for sex? For goodness sake, Malfoy, you're that desperate?"  
  
Malfoy looked genuinely disgusted. "Sex? That's what first years are for."  
  
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "You really are evil."  
  
He smiled. "Now you're getting it."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "May I go?"  
  
"Of course. Wouldn't dream of being . . . less than a gentleman." He stepped aside to let her pass.  
  
She was almost gone when he again grabbed her hair. Hermione looked back with a scowl.  
  
"Good luck in the contest, Granger."  
  
"Bite me, Malfoy." She cringed at the unintentional double entendre. Malfoy grinned and let her go.  
  
____________________________  
  
Author's Note: Da da da da dum, dedede DUM! DUM DUM! DAAAA! --- Cheap soundtrack. 


	5. Girl Power

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Chapter five: Girl Power  
  
Reminder: This story rated 'R'. Charge your cell phone.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Hermione, heading out of the library, spotted Harry and Ron, conversing animatedly, walking towards her. She turned and flattened herself against the inside of the doorway, still holding back screams or tears from her encounter with Malfoy and panting with the effort. Unfortunately, when Ron and Harry came through the door, her heavy breathing made them notice her and turn around.  
  
Harry immediately came forward, offering her a dinner roll from his pocket. "Sorry, it's the only thing that would survive my pocket."  
  
Hermione took the roll and smiled a little, glancing over at Ron, who was looking hurt and suspicious, still standing behind Harry trying to compose himself.  
  
"How's the studying going?" Harry looked over across the library. "Is that your fort?"  
  
Hermione smiled at him, looking down at her shoes. This was difficult. Really, really hard. She could still feel Draco's hand down her skirt. The roll, squeezed in her fist, was oozing between her fingers.  
  
Harry scratched the back of his head. "Look, I'm going to go back to the common room. All that's been going on lately has gotten me kind of behind, so . . . ."  
  
Hermione nodded at him, now picking apart the roll.  
  
Ron still stood there after Harry had left. Alone with Ron, Hermione finally let herself feel her emotions, and she immediately began to cry. Ron was hugging her before the first tear hit her chin. For the first time since they broke up, she didn't fight it. It felt so good to be held so tightly with love instead of malice.  
  
Her head buried in his chest, she cried herself out while he silently enveloped her, chin resting on her head. She sniffed a little, and looked up at him wetly, and suddenly, their lips were touching. They wordlessly traveled over to a little spot in the stacks that was seldom traveled by innocents looking for books. As they reprised old habits, Ron studiously avoided her ears, and Hermione wondered why.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Ron couldn't help but know her and himself. Know that he shouldn't be kissing her, touching her. Know that she knew the same thing. But he couldn't pass up the chance to be near her like this. Gods, he loved her so much. But the idea was planted in his head of Malfoy's lips where his were touching, Draco's hands roaming where his were now.  
  
However, Ron knew other things about Hermione, for instance that her and Malfoy were apparently no longer together, because no matter how pained she was, Hermione would never cheat. Her nails ran across his back under his shirt and he stopped pondering the situation intellectually.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Ron was like magic, erasing the marks that Draco had left. Malfoy's breath on her neck, him pressing against the small of her back, the snake's hand tracing down her stomach and under the waistband of her skirt, all went away when Ron was here like this. She thought of the first time, when they figured out how to bypass the 'no boys allowed' charm on the girls' dormitory, and ended up frantically loving each other out of shared achievement and exuberant mutual admiration behind bed curtains during dinner.  
  
This time was quieter, darker, and impersonal. They were selfishly using each other the way only good friends could.  
  
When they returned to the common room, Harry was sitting in an armchair reading Defense Against the Dark Arts. He looked up at them, Ron's shirt untucked and Hermione decidedly flushed, and feigned obliviousness as usual.  
  
"How are you feeling, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione smiled tightly at him. "Better." She knew that Ron would probably tell Harry all about it later, and didn't really care. Ron wasn't doing her in the library, he was making love to his memories of her, and his sadness at her leaving. And she was fucking her friend, not her lover.  
  
Harry smiled back at her and turned to Ron. "Have you started research on your mid-term thesis yet?"  
  
"Um, no. It's still September. Mid-term is December. They sound similar, see, but really they're very different."  
  
Hermione decided to leave them at it. There was a stack of books up in her room she meant to read before the Cogito started. She had been feeling a little better after Ron and their mundane conversation in the hallway, and she flopped into the chair in her room to read.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
After Hermione disappeared up the stairs, Ron slouched down into a couch next to Harry. He looked over at his reading friend.  
  
"Do you want to talk about Hermione again?" Harry lowered his book.  
  
Ron snorted. "You act like I'm obsessed with her or something."  
  
"Isn't that what you want to talk about?"  
  
"Well, yeah, but she isn't ignoring me anymore. Far from it."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Well, you know I'd never shag and tell, but I need to talk to you about it anyway."  
  
"Is there any way we could skip the play-by-play? I mean, I understand the mechanics and everything, but Hermione's my friend."  
  
"Not about that part." Ron leaned in and handed Harry a slip of paper. "I found that in the waistband of her skivvies."  
  
Harry held the paper decidedly more carefully after that revelation. "Why didn't you just give it back?"  
  
Ron was speechless for a moment. "Because it's obviously from Malfoy. Why would she be carrying it around like that?"  
  
"Maybe it's personal. A love note."  
  
"That's what I thought until I read it. It's weird, though, a prophecy, or a warning or something."  
  
"You thought it was a personal love note, so you read it?"  
  
Ron snorted. "I don't have to justify myself to you."  
  
"Are you and Hermione back together now?"  
  
"Just read the thing already."  
  
"One head downed forever from the pride, a lock from the mane I must divide."  
  
Ron laid back exasperatedy. "What the hell does that mean?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I didn't know Malfoy was a poet. Besides, if she's messing with you, why would she have a note from him, y'know, there?"  
  
"She started bawling right after you left. I think they just broke up or something."  
  
"You don't know for sure?"  
  
Ron pulled a face. "I don't want to get involved in her business."  
  
"Right. Just her pants." Harry smirked.  
  
"It's not like that and you know it." Ron stared into the air and paused for the moment. "I love her. She just doesn't want to be with me."  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
The knock on the door got louder, more persistant.  
  
Draco, sitting that night in his room, turned away from his desk. "I thought I told you to go away," he yelled through the door.  
  
"You told me to come back in an hour."  
  
"Very well, then."  
  
Mindy, a thirteen-year-old second year, was striking with jet-black hair and blue eyes. He could stand to be near her, she was smart and amoral enough. She desperately craved to be both popular and powerful, and was willing to demean herself to who she needed to. At Hogwarts, in Slytherin house, that was Draco.  
  
Sometimes she wanted to talk, and most of the time he humored her. He didn't love her. He barely liked her, but she was there, and someone filling her position seemed necessary.  
  
"Draco, do you do this with anyone else?" He watched somewhat bemusedly as she took off her shoes and blouse.  
  
"Does it matter?"  
  
She folded her clothes carefully on his chair, and sat down on the bed in her bra and panties. Her toenails were painted red. "Do you?"  
  
Malfoy sighed and joined her on the bed. "Why do you care?"  
  
"Don't worry. I know what this is." She was tying her hair back; Draco didn't like it to get messy. "I was just curious."  
  
"All right then, just you. I don't have time to fool around with people."  
  
It was a twisted picture, this barely teenager in black lacy underwear there for him to do what he pleased. But it wasn't nearly as exciting as it used to be.  
  
"Pansy asks after you," Mindy intoned, leaning in close, unbuttoning his shirt. "She sits in her room pining after you."  
  
He put his hand over her mouth. "You know I don't want to hear about her."  
  
She kissed his hand and maneuvered out of his grip. "Well could you have someone tell her to leave me alone?"  
  
Draco considered. "I suppose." Once or twice during the next hour with Mindy, images of Hermione Granger, breathless with terror, flashed through his head white-hot.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
Sunday morning, the usual three were eating breakfast together, and reflexively pretending like nothing happened.  
  
Hermione grabbed the Daily Prophet from a passing owl. "Have you seen the shiner on Pansy?"  
  
"Seriously," Ron agreed.  
  
"Shouldn't someone be worried about the girl getting beat up?"  
  
Ginny shrugged. "She's a cow, she probably deserved it."  
  
"Even so, I mean, she's even walking strangely. Limping." Harry wasn't alone in noticing. Pansy was quickening her pace and lowering her head as half the hall turned to look at her, whispering and pointing. Most of Slytherin, however, had their eyes stuck to their plates. Harry looked more carefully at the table. Malfoy was quietly grinning at a girl with dark hair sitting on his right side. "Ginny, who's the girl sitting next to Malfoy?"  
  
Ginny looked over then shook her head.  
  
Hermione didn't even look up. "Mindy something-or-other. His beard."  
  
"Whoa, harsh." Harry laughed into his juice.  
  
Ron just stared at the top of Hermione's head as she shoveled in food.  
  
THERAPEOFTHELOCK  
  
They studied in the library, side by side, not daring to even glance at one another. Draco knew about Granger's encounter with Weasley in the stacks, and knew he needed to re-gain the upper hand. She didn't seem overly worried about his little note. In fact, she seemed almost happier than usual. Something had to be done.  
  
He was distracted by the feeling of someone watching him, but when he turned to look all he saw was an unmistakable second-year disappearing behind a bookshelf.  
  
----------------------  
  
Author's Note: More to come, and soon. Meanwhile, learn a new language so you have an excuse to but Harry Potter in French, Spanish, or German! Don't forget to drop me a line review-style so I can read your stuff! 


	6. Melting Pot

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Chapter six: Melting Pot  
  
RemindeR: 'r' rated story. You don't have to like everything on MTV. Or MTV2.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: To Draco_Fan, who so kindly reviewed me: In my mind, this story strongly implies that Hermione and Ron had a previous romantic relationship, in year six, that they, er, consummated. I have a problem with using the word 'sex' in a romantic or even malicious construct. So, in my opinion, Hermione isn't a virgin. The word 'shag' does kind of imply a callous or frivolous sort of sexual intercourse to me. HOWever, the story is (maybe even subconsciously on purpose) written so that you could believe that Hermione, heck, everyone, is a virgin. Up to this chapter. If you want to believe in a sexless Potterverse, don't read this part. If you asked because you want a sex scene, so do I. But it doesn't serve the story at this point, so I'll have to save the Het and Slash for another story on another server (that allows NC-17, because yay, I'm finally legal!).  
  
Read on --  
  
Mindy knew that Draco's heart wasn't in it anymore. Well, his heart had never really been involved, but his mind had begun to wander. What fragments of a plan that had been formed in her mind -- other than that she must be close to Malfoy's power -- had involved him becoming more interested in her, not less. Perhaps her grandmother was right; nobody's going to buy the broom if the rides are free.  
  
She wandered from behind the bookshelf warily, wondering why she felt stealth was necessary to walk around the library on a Sunday afternoon. So what if she happened to glance over at the rather large group of students studying for the Cogito? So . . . She knew exactly why she was looking. Had Draco lied to her? She had lied to him, sort of. She knew what their relationship was, but that didn't mean she didn't want it to be anything else. Last night she could almost feel him thinking of someone else. Mindy sighed and slunk out of the library, hopefully undetected by Draco, who might begin to think that her feelings ran deeper than her lust for approval.  
  
Pacing the corridors had become a habit for her, over the month she'd spent trying to avoid seeing Draco outside of the bedroom for fear that he'd become bored with her and toss her aside. Every once in a while her mind flashed back to the first night, just after the train ride, when a pale hand had beckoned from the very last horseless carriage. What would have happened had she went along in the car with her empty-headed friends from first year? Or if she happened to be having a bad hair day? No time to think about that now.  
  
Just after the feast, and Draco was named as Head Boy. He celebrated with something a little stronger than butterbeer back in the Slytherin common room, and a whisper into her thirteen-year-old ear. Would she like to join him . . . Upstairs? She barely knew what that meant. What was her innocence worth? A month, perhaps, of sitting at his right hand. And now his infatuation was waning. What could she do? Wish she could have understood, that first night, while his breath tickled her neck in the common room, the little glances that so many of the girls flicked her, the hurt and the warning that she mistook for nothing or perhaps jealousy.  
  
Mindy wondered if Draco even knew the extent of pain that he caused to the girls he invited to his bed, then roughly cast aside. Or had he actually caused anything? He made it clear, somehow, from the very first time that everything was surface. That she was an object for his private physical affection only, not a lover or a friend. Sex toy. Why was she incapable of seeing him in the same way? Maybe not incapable, but unwilling?  
  
Surprised to find herself in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, she noticed her green-striped tie seemed to blare against the portrait of the fat lady. Out of energy to think, and unwilling to return to the den of pain that was Slytherin tower, Mindy sunk to the floor next to the painting, and buried her face in her knees, letting her long hair fall to the floor. In the end, she surmised too late, the broom stands alone.  
  
(:)--=  
  
The girl sitting outside the common room hadn't moved all day. Everyone stepped over her and muttered to each other. After dinner, Ron and Harry somewhat awkwardly poked her with the toes of their shoes, sort of amazed that she folded up so small.  
  
Ron crouched down to look at her. "H'lo?" He touched her arm gingerly. "Is anyone in there, or should we just chuck this pile of clothes in the bin?"  
  
A small giggle escaped the crouching pile of hair and elbows.  
  
"Ah! It speaks!" Ron was absorbed in his revival efforts, and Harry looked on bemusedly.  
  
Mindy looked up, her eyes red and hair disheveled. "Yes, but could you chuck me in the bin anyway?"  
  
"Oh, none of that. And it's pretty, too."  
  
Her face screwed up to cry again. "I don't need any more boys thinking I'm pretty," she sobbed.  
  
"And we don't need any more mad girls to worry about," Harry muttered. "Especially not Slytherins. Ron, come on, we're supposed to do Charms homework."  
  
Ron slapped Harry's knees and gave him a death glare. "Go away."  
  
"Fine." Harry went through the painting, talking to himself about Ron dragging home bloody stray birds all the time.  
  
"Don't bother about him, birdie." He stood and offered her a hand up. "Old scar-head can be a mite self-involved sometimes."  
  
She grinned and he grinned back. She really was pretty, but as she stood he realized how young she was, and how old her eyes looked.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
She looked away from this direct assault, but didn't let go of his hand.  
  
"Stupid question, really." He pondered his limited repertoire. "Would you like a hug?"  
  
At that, she let go of his hand and backed away a step.  
  
Ron had a spark of recognition. "Hey, I think you might really like to speak to my sister."   
  
Mindy looked at him questioningly.  
  
"Really," he replied earnestly.  
  
The girl bit her lip and nodded, a tear falling down her face.  
  
(:)--=  
  
Harry sat in his dormitory alone. He didn't need any more mad girls running about ruining his life. They were always on about something, and impossible to figure out.  
  
He sighed and fell backwards into the covers. Ron was so good with girls now, especially after he started speaking to Ginny and dating Hermione.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry had managed to screw up virtually every encounter with a girl he'd ever had. Most recently . . . Well, he didn't want to even think about it anymore. It was awkward and they both regretted it. Ron had almost set an unforgivable curse on him for even consensual sex with his sister.  
  
And now, the Cogito. He could do without.  
  
Mostly, though, the things Hermione had said back in her bedroom had been running through his head. What was he supposed to do after Hogwarts? All the sudden, after six years of fighting off being the biggest name on campus, Harry was even feeling small.  
  
(:)--=  
  
Hermione and Draco, each for a moment side-tracked by things of a carnal nature, found themselves getting ready for bed that night and re-aligning their goals.  
  
Hermione focused intensely on the Cogito as flashes of the longest weekend of her life spun in her mind: bleeding, death threats, Malfoy's hand between her legs, sleeping with Ron, and Draco sitting down next to her in the library, not even speaking, but staring steadily ahead . . . Anyway, as she mentally put her blinders on, she maniacally focused on winning the contest the next afternoon.  
  
Draco couldn't believe the entire weekend had passed, it was only hours before the preliminary round of the contest, and he'd barely progressed in his goals. Well, some things were out of the way. He had, through exhaustive research about Slytherin's poem, figured out a few things. And none of it would matter if he didn't win the Cogito.  
  
(:)--=  
  
The usual group filtered into the Great Hall for the Cogito, jabbering excitedly to themselves.  
  
"Harry, I know you'll do really well," Hermione said sweetly.  
  
Ron guffawed. "Well, if she's anything, she's falsely modest."  
  
"At least she wished me luck." Harry looked pointedly at Ron.  
  
"Sorry, mate. It's just . . ." he gave up. "She's going to kick your arse."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Yes, probably."  
  
Ginny, always a little on the outskirts, opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.  
  
Snape, having uttered the Sonorus charm, projected throughout the Hall. "Sit down and silence yourselves!"  
  
The group rushed to get seats before the potions master spotted them and singled them out, but alas! It was too late.  
  
"Potter! Granger! Have you forgotten that you are contestants? Take your proper places immediately!"  
  
"Luck," Ron said automatically, looking up to see who else was chosen for the contest.  
  
"You'll be amazing Hermione. Good luck, Harry." Ginny smiled at both of them.  
  
For a moment, Harry couldn't take his eyes off of a smiling Ginny who wished him luck.  
  
"NOW!"  
  
Hermione and Harry jumped and scurried up to the stage.  
  
After glaring the Gryffindors into their seats, Professor Snape reluctantly gave up the place of honor to Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"Quiet down--" He looked around and realized that everyone was, in fact, already silent after his associate's display. "Well. Shall we introduce our contestants?"  
  
There were exuberant cheers from the student population. The quidditch season hadn't gotten on it's feet yet, so they were channeling all their house pride into this competition. Some wore house scarves or waved flags, although most students were content to yell loudly or try to play exploding snap quietly while Dumbledore announced all eight of the contestants, two from each house.  
  
Ginny and her brother predictably went nuts when Hermione and Harry were announced, but they surprised their Gryffindor row-mates by giving Mindy a standing ovation as well.  
  
(:)--=   
  
Draco, sitting in a row of seats on the stage, noted the two red-headed dolts cheering for Mindy, who seemed quietly pleased at the attention. He nudged her in the ribs.  
  
"What's that about?"  
  
Mindy appeared startled for a second, then shrugged. "Dunno. Weird Weasleys."  
  
He looked back out over the crowd cooly.  
  
(:)--=  
  
At the other end of the row, Hermione also got elbowed in the side by Harry, who handed her a note. 'Don't open this here, Granger,' was written on the folded flap of paper.  
  
Harry tried to get her to open it, but her name was called to answer a question and she stood, shoving the note in her pocket.  
  
(:)--=  
  
"At the end of the first night of the Cogito, the General round," Professor McGonagall announced proudly, "Hermione Granger of Gryffindor is leading by seventeen points." She paused in order to let the Gryffindor section of the room (and several surprised packs of playing cards) to explode with glee. "Draco Malfoy of Slytherin follows with fifteen points." The Slytherin students responded similarly.  
  
"Unfortunately, Miss Zoe Finch of Ravenclaw has fallen last, and it's my sad duty to dismiss her." McGonagall clapped for the third-year girl, who had looked like a bad case of stage fright from the beginning. "Good job, Zoe! I will see the other seven of you next Monday, and congratulations!"  
  
Hermione bounded down the stairs, and the male Ravenclaw followed, noticing the way her skirt flounced up as she hopped.  
  
"Oh, Hermione you were brilliant!" Ginny exclaimed, hugging Hermione tightly.  
  
"Wicked, really!" Ron hugged her too.  
  
Hermione giggled. "That is high praise." They shared an awkward moment coming out of the hug, which Ron filled by kissing her on the cheek.  
  
"Hey, ten points doesn't suck, guys," Harry interrupted.  
  
Ginny squinted. "Hmm, not brilliant, but mildly shiny." To both their surprise, she hugged him as well.  
  
"Good game," Ron supplied, patting Harry on the arm. "Hey, Herm--" But when he turned around, she was gone.  
  
Mindy, still sitting on the stage with Draco, caught Ron's wandering eye and winked at him. He grinned.  
  
(:)--=  
  
Out in the hallway, Hermione pulled out the note from Draco.  
  
'Be at the top of Gryffindor tower at ten p.m. Remember.'  
  
She suddenly felt ill. There was no way she would meet that bastard on top of the tower. Muttering 'Incendio' and letting the note metamorphize into ashes, Hermione knew that there was no way she couldn't.  
  
(:)--=  
  
____________________________________  
  
Yet another Author's Note: Okay, some anonymous reviewer REALLY, really hated that I use 'THERAPEOFTHELOCK' as a divider, and kinda hurt my feelings with the way they said it. HOWever, I'm sure they didn't mean to and have decided they could have a point, so I've switched to a key, (:)--=, yes, it's supposed to be a key, in the lost art form of ASCII.  
  
ALSO: "seeker" asks me to have someone stand up to Draco. All I can say is, seeker, keep reading. And if someone likes sick Draco a lot (cuz I do), he isn't over soon either.  
  
To Draco_Fan: I did update soon! And thanks for the encouragement. My writing is sometimes slow because I work and go to school and have too many parents.  
  
ANYONE else: As you can see, I'm totally reviewer-dedicated. I take care of my friends & take reviews seriously. So review me already! And let me read your stories, too!  
  
Love, Hale Comet 


	7. Just Jump

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Chapter seven  
  
Reminder: story rated 'R'. Maybe the worst chapter so far as far as the sex and violence goes, but not so bad really. Also, sign your holiday greeting cards.  
  
________________________________________  
  
Malfoy, after seeing Hermione exit, got up and left the stage. Mindy trailed behind him, passing behind Ron, who stood chattering with his sister and his friends. She reached out a hand to tap him on the shoulder, but Malfoy turned around to glare at her.  
  
"You were pathetic."  
  
Mindy felt like she had been physically struck. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Ten points? A total disgrace to your house. No wonder the Weasels were clapping for you."  
  
"I'm sorry." For the moment, she swallowed her pride. Once outside the hall, he slowed his pace a bit and she caught up. He put his hand lightly on the small of her back and she tried not to flinch away from him.  
  
Draco suddenly pulled her into a small side hallway, pushing her up against the cold stone wall with one hand against her collarbone. His lips were upon hers, cold and dry as his teeth tugged on her tongue. She consented passively as he ripped her shirt open and fondled her aggressively.  
  
Neither knew any other way.  
  
She only spoke when he picked her up around his waist. "Stop."  
  
He was so surprised he bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. Maybe it wasn't surprise. She dropped heavily to her feet as Draco let go of her and stepped back from the wall. "What?"  
  
"Not here in the hallway." Mindy knew that somewhere, on some edge, she still had a slight amount of pull with him. "Please."  
  
He apparently wasn't in the mood. "If you want to go, fine. But I don't want to see you lurking around anymore."  
  
Her eyes widened with fear. "No! No, I mean, I didn't want to say, but I'm on my . . ."  
  
He looked at her blankly.  
  
"Monthly."  
  
Draco quickly tried to decide whether this was repulsive.  
  
"I'm bleeding," Mindy said disgustedly.  
  
"I got it, thank you."  
  
"No, I mean, my lip."  
  
He was on firmer ground with this. "And?"  
  
"You--" Mindy started angrily, then realized she was trying to be conciliatory. "You want to take this upstairs? We can still do the other thing." She looked up at him hopefully, touching his arm gently.  
  
"Perhaps later." He gestured toward the main hallway. "You can go. I have an engagement." Malfoy stood in the alcove and watched her go, curious as to what she was hiding.  
  
(:)--=  
  
Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had run into Hermione and all four were heading back to the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"'Mione, what was in the letter?" Ron tugged at her sleeve excitedly.  
  
Hermione spun on Harry. "You told him?"  
  
"Um, I didn't--" Harry started, but was interrupted by Ron.  
  
"What's there to hide from me?"  
  
"None of your business!" She shook her arm to disattatch Ron's hand from her sleeve. "Not everything I do is about you."  
  
Ginny was starting to get angry. "If the note's from Malfoy, it's about us. He's out to get every one of us, and his father's a death eater's death eater. There are some things you can't handle yourself."  
  
"This isn't one of them." Hermione struggled to keep her anger in check. "Listen, I'll let you know if it gets bad, I promise. Okay?"  
  
They stepped through the portrait-hole quietly. "Anyone wanna play wizard chess?" Ron suggested.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Homework."  
  
"I'll play with you, but just once. I'm supposed to meet a friend later," Ginny agreed.  
  
"I'm going to bed," Hermione announced, heading for her room. Ron jogged over to catch up with her at the bottom of the staircase.  
  
"Are you and Malfoy . . ." He said quietly, unable to finish.  
  
She had to answer, he looked so pathetic. "No."  
  
"Have you, um, with him?" He scratched the back of his neck nervously.  
  
"That's none of your business. I'd never ask you, Ron, honestly."  
  
"Well I'll tell you I haven't. With anyone."  
  
Hermione was exasperated. "We've broken up, go ahead, screw everything with legs, you don't need to tell me about it."  
  
"You broke up, Hermione. I still love you."  
  
In his own odd way, here Ron was, breaking up with her six months after the fact. Hermione reached out and touched his cheek. "I love you, too." She looked at his eyes for a moment. "And I'm sorry about what happened at the library."  
  
"I'm not." He grinned naughtily.  
  
Hermione hugged him, wondering if she'd ever get the privilege again. "I haven't slept with anyone either," she whispered into his ear.  
  
"I wasn't worried about the sleeping."  
  
"Hello! Ron, the chessboard's been set up for about a year. Come on!"  
  
The couple shared tight smiles as Ron left to join his sister and Hermione supposedly went off to bed.  
  
(:)--=  
  
"You're late, Granger," he drawled, watching her emerge from the trap door onto the top of the tower.  
  
She was resolved. "You'll have to forgive me, I came as soon as I could."  
  
"Congratulations on your achievement at the contest."  
  
"And yourself," she replied.  
  
"Do you trust me with your life?" He locked eyes with her.  
  
Hermione stared back at him. "What? Of course not."  
  
"Hm. Too bad." He looked out across the roof. "Because I hold it anyway." He jumped over the edge of the tower.  
  
Hermione rushed to look down. There he was, standing looking up at her, stradding the peak of the roof about six feet down. "How did you do that?" she asked, still partly horrified.  
  
"Very carefully. Now you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Is it really to my advantage to have you fall to your death? Just jump."  
  
Hermione sat on the edge and closed her eyes, then decided that eyes open was a better approach.  
  
She hadn't anticipated the way her skirt would fly up. Or the way her robes would blow around and blind her. She really hadn't expected it to hurt so badly when he caught her by her arm and her bare upper thighs. But most of all, she hadn't expected him to catch her.  
  
"Augh, ouch."  
  
"You're lucky I caught you at all, flailing about like that."  
  
"I'm sorry, I was blind and falling to my death. You can put me down now."  
  
Her heart was beating a million miles a minute, and Draco could feel it against his chest. Granger's terror was inspiring to parts of him he usually didn't consider with mudbloods. He set her down and watched as she sorted out her clothing.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"You'll see. Pull your skirt down, it's caught just there."  
  
Hermione nodded. There was a time when she thought that Malfoy seeing her panties was the worst thing that could happen to her.  
  
(:)--=  
  
Ginny won the game of chess and rubbed it in properly, then went off to get ready to meet her friend. Ron and Harry were left to clean up.  
  
"What were you saying to Hermione before?"  
  
Ron thought for a moment. "Dunno, really. Goodbye."  
  
"So you're over her?"  
  
"I'm going to say this and you're going to laugh, Harry. But I don't think you ever get over your first love."  
  
Harry looked at him blankly for a moment before he couldn't contain his laughter anymore.  
  
"Shut up! This is serious!"  
  
"Well, if we're getting serious, then. Your sister's been giving me looks lately."  
  
"Ginny?"  
  
"No, George. Of course Ginny."  
  
"Bully for her, then. You two only broke up because you couldn't handle looking at each other after awkward virgin-sex."  
  
"What made you Hermione all the sudden?"  
  
"Oh, you didn't know, I am Hermione, it's just Polyjuice, honestly. Copy my homework, please!"  
  
"Why the hell were you so mad at me then?"  
  
"Gods, Harry, the way she made it out, I didn't know what really happened. She was so damn upset I thought you'd done something awful."  
  
Harry gaped at his best friend. "You thought I raped her?"  
  
Ron grimaced. He had really hoped this never came up.  
  
"To be honest, yeah. She burst into my room bawling with her clothes half-done. What was I supposed to think?"  
  
Harry looked at his hands. "Wow."  
  
"Yeah." Ron snapped the chess-set box closed.  
  
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "I figured you knew."  
  
"And after she explained? I mean, I assume she explained."  
  
"I didn't want to make you angry again, I guess. I'm sorry, Harry, she's my little sister."  
  
"I'm sorry you ever thought that about me. And angry." Harry got up. "I think I'm going to bed."  
  
Ron turned the box over in his hands, wondering if he had just done irreparable damage to his friendship. Again.  
  
(:)--=  
  
Hermione sat in Malfoy's room, held in the chair by magical bindings.  
  
"Comfortable?"  
  
"Shut up." She whipped her head around to get the hair out of her face. "I knew I shouldn't have come here."  
  
Draco grinned and sat down across from her, rolling up her sleeve. "Like you had a choice." He ripped off the bandage that covered the jagged cuts on her arm, looking at them appreciatively. "Now, I hate to be trite, but we can do this the easy way or the hard way. And we'll even pretend it's your choice."  
  
"Oh, joy."  
  
Draco ran a perfect thumbnail along a cut and re-opened it, staring fascinated as the blood welled up like it was smiling at him. He stood abruptly. "Pay attention, mudblood."  
  
On the bedside table next to the chair, several conspicuously-labeled bottles were lined up. Hermione looked over at them.  
  
"This is Amicus Juice," he said, "combined with a special mixture of mine which makes telepathic suggestion effective." He poured it into a shot glass. "Drink it."  
  
"Um, no."  
  
"Fine. This is a knife." He cut both insides of her wrists deeply. Hermione gasped, shocked. "Those are fatal wounds."  
  
He picked up the Amicus juice again, and a second bottle. "This is a coagulant and a healing potion. The last left in the school, and it takes twelve hours to brew." Malfoy poured the Amicus Juice in with the healing potion. "Don't worry, I checked, they won't interfere with each other. Now, drink it or you'll die."  
  
Hermione grimaced as she swallowed the mix. It tasted foul, and felt even worse going down. She resolved to find a cure for it as soon as she stopped bleeding to death.  
  
"You won't research a cure for this potion. At all. And if you happen to find one, you won't use it. You'll meet me in my room at eight o' clock after each round of the Cogito. From now on, in fact," Draco drank a shot glass of his own, "you'll even obey what I think."  
  
"Wow, Doctor Malfoy, I feel all better now." Hermione watched as he bandaged all her cuts from his wand. "You're such a bastard. I did what you want, now let me go."  
  
"Too bad I can't keep you from being sarcastic."  
  
"Yes, it is."  
  
The bonds undid themselves, and Hermione quickly got up.  
  
"Not so fast, Granger." Malfoy picked up the back of her cloak and flipped it over her head.  
  
"I have this strange feeling we've already done this today. Ooh, are you going to look at my underwear again, 'cause that was fun."  
  
Malfoy shoved her roughly.  
  
"That was my chest."  
  
"Then I didn't enjoy it. I'm walking you through the Slytherin common room. Actually, better idea, I'm carrying you. I can't have you remembering how to get back."  
  
Hermione was thrown into the hallway. He managed to have her hit all her bruises when she fell onto the hard floor, and created new ones. She hated him, and now she was his slave. Oh, bloody hell. It hurt to even look up.  
  
A small, dark-haired Slytherin girl stepped over her and flipped back the cloak that covered her face. "Oh," she said politely, and scurried off.  
  
______________________________________  
  
Author's Note: All written in one go! I was feeling inspired, driving around today, going "Agh, Hermione and Mindy are dancing in my head!" And then this came out. I wasn't completely absolutely sure where the Ron/Herm., Ginny/Harry, and Ron/Harry story arcs were going (though I already knew the back story) but now I see how they fit into the main plot. Plus, Wow, this was fun to write because I'm getting into the mystery. The end is sort of in sight.  
  
Please, please let me know what you think. I'm updating constantly, I don't know what else people want. I'm just kidding, I love you!  
  
--Hale Comet 


	8. I've Had a Bad Night

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Chapter 8: I've Had a Bad Night  
  
Reminder: Story is rated 'R,' but not particularly for this chapter. Spay or neuter your pets, peeps.  
  
___________________________________   
  
He could sense her fear, and wondered why she trembled slightly when he touched her shoulder or held her by the hair. She had never been frightened before. Awkward, but never scared. Draco sincerely doubted she was really on her period, but didn't want to take the time to engage in a pointless argument. He had been stressed enough that day. Besides, with her terrified like this, it was almost exciting again to do these things with her.  
  
With his pants around his ankles and him distracted for the time, it was almost child's play for Mindy to remove his keys from his pocket and slip them into her own. His fingernails dug into her scalp, but her short cry of shock was muffled, and the only outward symptoms of her pain were the tears streaming from her eyes.  
  
(:)--=  
  
"Hermione?" Harry was blurry as he stood over her.  
  
Ron kneeled down at her shoulder. "Are you okay? What happened?"  
  
She couldn't remember at first, and things hurt. She tried to prop herself up on her hands, only to encounter searing pain from her wrists. "Fuck," she whispered, and fell onto her back. That hurt, too.  
  
The girl made quite an image, sprawled in the hallway with her cloak bunched around her head and deathly pale. At least her eyes were open now. "Do you still think you can handle this on your own?" Harry prodded.  
  
Hermione glared at him. "Yes." What had happened was coming back to her, and making her incredibly angry and frustrated all over again.  
  
"Leave her alone, Harry. She's been through enough." Ron picked her up under her knees and back, noticing her wince. "Whatever it was."  
  
Afraid more than anything that the floppy sleeves of the robe would fall back and reveal her wrists, she wanted to tell Ron that she was all right and that it was really better if she walked, but he would insist and all that conversation would just wear her out. Instead, under the steady rhythm of his footfalls in the empty late-night corridors, and duress from blood loss, she fell back asleep.  
  
"She looks so much smaller when she's asleep," Harry commented quietly.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You want me to take over for a while?"  
  
"No, I'm all right." Ron was only absentmindedly listening, as he noticed a thin line of blood running down Hermione's palm to the tip of her ring finger.  
  
(:)--=  
  
Ginny didn't get back to Gryffindor tower until long after the other three had gone to bed. She changed into pajamas, fully anticipating falling asleep in her breakfast the next morning.  
  
(:)--=  
  
Hermione woke up early, even more achey than the night before. The healing potion was working, but the effects weren't immediate and it wouldn't be enough for everything that was wrong with her. This fact was evidenced by the small bright red spots on her rusty-stained bandages.  
  
She couldn't go down to breakfast. Everyone would ask questions and she couldn't tell them anything. Or Malfoy would have her confess to a suicide attempt or something. It was safest to stay away.  
  
Hermione crawled to the side of the bed gingerly, looked under and pulled out a care package from her parents, sent with a healthy dose of guilt. She felt a flash of sadness again at the thought of her parents. None of her friends even knew yet. They were growing apart so fast.  
  
Eating some dried fruit from a plastic bag for breakfast, she shoved some baked goods into her book satchel for lunch. At least she could put her friends off for a little while.  
  
(:)--=  
  
At breakfast, Ron was as usual stuffing his face and talking at the same time. "So how'd it go last night, Gin?"  
  
"All right. I got back late, though." She stretched and yawned. "Thanks for your cloak, Harry, I would have been dogmeat."  
  
"No problem, I thought you might need it."  
  
She pushed her eggs around on her plate absently. "It was a good call."  
  
Ron looked back and forth between them, waiting for something to happen. It didn't. "So where's Hermione again?"  
  
Ginny shrugged. "I knocked on her door, she said she was sleeping in a bit."  
  
"Yeah, don't blame her," Harry commented.  
  
"Did she sound okay?"  
  
"What are you guys talking about?"  
  
Ron glanced at Harry, then back at his sister. "She didn't tell you?"  
  
"No."  
  
The boys looked quickly down at their plates. Ginny deserved to know, it was just that, well . . . Along with being amazingly quick-witted and brave, she was often brash and impulsive. Something they weren't sure the situation required.  
  
"Hello, you promised you'd let me in on things."  
  
Harry sighed. "Yeah. Um, Hermione was beat up pretty badly last night. We found her asleep in the corridor."  
  
"Passed out?" Ginny was shocked.  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"Oh. Do you think this has to do with all the stuff with Malfoy?"  
  
"Pretty sure. She was near the Slytherin common room."  
  
"Oh." They could see the wheels turning in Ginny's head.  
  
Ron put on his best big-brother voice. "Now I know you wanna go talk to her right now, but you know Hermione. Give her some time."  
  
"She'll have time to go see him and get beat up again. Or have him find her."  
  
"She's not stupid, Gin. Her pride's been hurt, give her some space," Harry pleaded.  
  
"Yeah, okay. For now."  
  
She was way too agreeable. Both boys knew that meant she'd already found a way around their request.  
  
"Don't go to Malfoy, either. We don't need you passed out in the hallway tonight."  
  
"Yeah, we have to get some sleep," Ron joked.  
  
It wasn't very funny.  
  
(:)--=  
  
Hermione was a few minutes early to Potions after skipping breakfast. She sat down at her bench and took out her notes. Thank anything they'd studied Amicus Juice in class. Actually, scratch that. That's probably where Draco got the idea.  
  
She found herself distracted from unrolling the parchment, looking in her satchel, staring at the pictures on the wall, until she finally steeled her mind. 'I am not looking for a cure,' she thought angrily. 'I am just seeing how it works.' The pressure stopped and she sat, breathing hard for a minute as she found the right place on the paper.  
  
"Amicus Juice," she read quietly to herself, "fifth century, blah, blah, conscious suggestion, blah, oh, here we go. Invasive although limited, master must maintain visual contact with and give specific direct commands. Once given, commands extend as long as they are relevant, and subject has virtually no control over obeying them. A relatively simple potion, it's effects wear off in two to three weeks if not refreshed."  
  
"Gods, I'm screwed," Hermione said aloud, rolling the parchment back up.  
  
"Well, that's news," Malfoy sneered. "Who's the unlucky bloke?"  
  
"Shut up." Hermione suddenly got up and sat on the floor. "Stop it."  
  
"Excellent. And on my first try, too. I'm going to be famous for this."  
  
She climbed back up into her seat. "If you live to tell about it."  
  
"I don't think I'm the one who should be worried about surviving." Malfoy chose his seat, three desks behind and to the left of her.  
  
Wait, Hermione thought, staring at her desk. 'Virtually no control?' 'Virtually?' She really, really wished she was allowed to research this. He'd cut out her feet from under her.  
  
(:)--=  
  
"Do you think we were right about what we said to Ginny?"  
  
"Dunno." Harry slammed his books on the table.  
  
Ron stared at the doorway as if willing Hermione to appear. "What's she gotten herself into?"  
  
"Dunno."  
  
"Ah. You're still bloody pissed at me, aren't you?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Ah."  
  
(:)--=  
  
Ginny fingered the object in her pocket and thought about how much she hated to bide her time. If something had to be done, why not now, forcefully and definitely? She sighed and put her head down on her desk. Maybe if she faked sick she would be able to make a move now.  
  
McGonagall tapped her desk sharply with her wand, making Ginny jump.  
  
Maybe not.  
  
(:)--=  
  
"Mindy, you're going to be late," a second year Mindy barely recognized chided her. Mindy didn't recognize many people anymore in Slytherin, just pale hands and flickering gray eyes and a sense of longing drowned in despair and desperation.  
  
The girl waved a hand in front of Mindy's face. "Hello?"  
  
Mindy's hand shot out and held the girl's wrist. "I've had a bad night, and I'd thank you to remember who the hell you're doing that to."  
  
The girl walked away, wearing the same look she imagined she wore those times when he'd slapped her or turned her away, and she didn't particularly care. She still tasted him. The world was spinning around her and it wasn't paying special attention to anyone, least of all her.  
  
________________________________________  
  
Author's note: Yeah, I know it's sorta shorty, but it's one-fifteen in the morning and I have a long day of drawing for class tomorrow (yay, homework!) and then class Monday so no updates for at least two days. Next chap is key so I don't want to do it up cheap.  
  
Check out my favorite stories (especially the one by arbitrary) for some killer Hermione/Draco fics to tide you over (strangely enough, everything I read ends up being Herm/Draco romances). Leave me a note if you want me to email you when a new chapter's up.  
  
arbitrary- such a nice review, and you did the same thing to me, having me read your cool story instead of work on mine, shame!  
  
dracoNmione- Um, I'd be interested in hearing what you think is funny about my story. I appreciate your review, but wow, that wasn't where I was going with this at all.  
  
spidermonkeesrkewl- Yeah, I was being a little unclear about the potion, I hope this part helps out. If you have any other questions, let me know. Sometimes as a writer, it's like, you know what's going on but you forget to convey it as well as you should. Thank you.  
  
CHECK ya later --Hale Comet 


	9. Breaking and Entering

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Chapter Nine: Breaking and Entering  
  
This story's rated 'R' for adult content and Raisins (icky!)  
  
I know I haven't updated in a long time. Sometimes life gets in the way.  
  
(:)-=  
  
Ginny stood in the hallway, trying to appear nonchalant while her stomach churned and every muscle in her body was uncontrollably twitching. There was only a small space of time, thirty minutes at the most, when everyone would be gone and they could slip in. The boys knew how important this was, how could they be late?  
  
Someone was approaching, and she faced the wall, trying to hide although her flaming hair would give her away to anyone who happened to even glance her way.  
  
"Hey," Harry said, and Ginny turned to face him. His nose had been bloodied, and had a nice bruise forming between the bridge and his left eye. As he pulled out the invisibility cloak, she noticed him favor his right arm.  
  
"What happened to you?" her voice was a whisper as they crept the last length of the hallway, over the place where Harry and Ron had found Hermione the night before.  
  
"You should see the staircase," Harry tried to laugh.  
  
"Don't even try that with me, you git. Who were you fighting with? And where's Ron?" Ginny took a moment to put two and two together. "Oh, Harry, you've been fighting with Ron?"  
  
"Is this really the best time to be having this conversation?"  
  
Ginny pressed her lips together. "I suppose not. All hail Malfoy." They stepped through the door to the Slytherin common room and looked around warily before going down the hallway to Malfoy's room.  
  
Mindy's directions had been perfect. Ginny slipped out the key that the girl had stolen and opened the door to the Head Boy's bedroom. It was amazing. For a moment Ginny found herself imagining what it would be like to be swept off her feet in a place like this, to have someone kissing her neck while she looked up at the mural on the ceiling. Then she remembered whose lips would be doing the kissing in this bedroom, and snapped back to reality.  
  
Harry, less of a romantic, was already opening drawers and searching for something. They weren't sure what they'd find. And it was possible that the impeccable Malfoy wouldn't leave any clues at all. But they loved Hermione, and they had to look.  
  
"Look at this, Harry. All these books on mind control and telepathic suggestion." The volumes on the shelf by Malfoy's desk were almost exclusively on these topics. "Do you think that this is possible?"  
  
"If there's anything that going to Hogwarts has taught me, it's that nothing is impossible. Check and see if he's marked anything."  
  
Ginny started to pull out the books and flip through them, then carefully place them back where she found them. "Do you think he's been coercing Hermione into, you know, things with him?"  
  
"I don't know. Not everything with him is about that. Some of it is about the ruthless pursuit of and the corrupt use of power." Harry spoke absentmindedly as he rifled through Malfoy's nightstand. "Here it is."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I don't know, but anything he keeps locked inside a box inside the drawer of a nightstand in a locked room that he has the only key to has got to be important." Harry took his wand out from his back pocket. "Alohomora."  
  
They were both surprised it worked. The box popped open to reveal several little vials of jewel-toned liquids and a slip of parchment that looked like someone had spent hours folding and unfolding it.  
  
"A chance will arise to prove he is wise . . ." Harry read a little out loud before scanning the page. "This part, here. Ron found it on the underwear note."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"No time, look at the clock." Indeed, the beautiful little mahogany desk clock inlaid with mother of pearl showed that they only had a few minutes to get their acts together and get out of Malfoy's bedroom. Mindy promised to keep Malfoy away, but she had only so much control over the King of Slytherin.  
  
Ginny, who in a different reality might have been an excellent laboratory scientist, put a few drops of each of the liquids onto a spare piece of parchment she had in her pocket. It would do no good to leave things missing and destroy their advantage. Harry tried to memorize the little poem in the little time he had, but when Ginny was finished with the vials he put the paper back and locked the box, carefully placing it back in the drawer where he'd found it.  
  
While their heads knew that they had designed an excellent plan with the collaboration of the person Malfoy trusted most, their glands apparently thought different. Giddy with adrenaline, hearts pumping like mad, they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room. On the way, Ginny placed the key in a chink in the stonework Mindy had shown her. There were any number of spells that would show that Ginny had touched the key or that her and Harry had been inside Malfoy's room. So the trick to getting away with it was never even letting him suspect.  
  
The littlest Weasley felt exhilarated, dangerous, dark, almost sexy as they re-entered their own common room under cover of invisibility cloak. And no matter how awkward previous encounters had been, she was a sucker for medium, dark, and scar-faced. And his bruises almost made him more attractive. Ginny had never fallen out of love with Harry. Their relationship had just become inconvenient.  
  
The Boy Who Lived had resigned himself to becoming The Boy Who Loved, -ed, as in past tense, forever. But here the object of his adoration was, displaying a subtle change in expression, a small shift in posture, that clued him in subconsciously that she was thinking in present tense. Maybe even future.  
  
Before both of their intellectualism could get in the way, Ginny pressed her lips into Harry's at the same time as he embraced her. The movement of their shoulders made the cloak ripple into an iridescent puddle on the floor. They both smelled like fear and success, the dark spicy smells of Malfoy's chambers mixed with nervous sweat and all the words they'd wanted to voice for months.  
  
Someone behind them cleared his throat. Then coughed, or sort of gagged and squeaked a little. Ginny froze, then closed her eyes and formed a curt smile as she turned around to face her brother. Harry was already facing him with a nervous look in his eyes.  
  
"Don't make me recount to you, dear brother, all the times I've walked in on you and Hermione. And don't try to act pathetic, either. You and Harry look about equally banged up. Idiot boys thinking that violence solves everything."  
  
"Hey, it's not like that!" Ron protested.  
  
Harry bristled as well. "He practically called me a rapist."  
  
Ginny tried to shut out the feelings that this was her fault. "Well you both know Harry never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. And that littlest brother Ron can't help being over-protective. He's the only one left who can be."  
  
Both boys were annoyed to be analyzed in this way.  
  
"You two kiss and make up."  
  
"This is ridiculous, Gin, we'll find a way when we're ready."  
  
Her jaw was steel. "Do it."  
  
"'m sorry, mate," both boys uttered barely audibly.  
  
"What, no kiss?" Hermione was watching over the back of the couch. "You two could at least humor a girl."  
  
Hermione looked more like herself than she had since the end of sixth year. There was a stack of homework about a mile high in front of her, and a moving comic book (obviously Ron's) sitting in the armchair across from her.  
  
"Am I supposed to be dead or something? Why don't you two join us, we're having a lot of fun."  
  
Ginny shrugged and sat down next to Hermione. Harry hedged a little more. "I think Ron and I have something else to talk about. Upstairs."  
  
"Oh, don't tease," Hermione joked as the boys walked up the stairs.  
  
Ginny flipped through Ron's comic book and covertly watched over the top of it as Hermione finished homework twice as fast as ever, like nothing had happened. The rolls of parchment were filling up with tiny handwriting in violet ink, and the only hint that anything was out of the ordinary was how careful Hermione was with her wrists.  
  
(:)-=  
  
"I don't like the sound of that poem," Ron said up in the dormitory.  
  
"That whole 'kill a Gryffindor and get lots of evil power' thing was especially grating," Harry agreed. "But it looks like Malfoy can't do anything until he wins the Cogito. Which, on top of being unlikely, is a long way off."  
  
"He's not going to leave Hermione alone in the meantime. He has to keep her from winning the contest. And Mindy has to keep being his mistress, pretending like she still likes him. Honestly, if I were her, I couldn't do it."  
  
Harry made a face. He didn't understand why it wasn't Mindy's fault that she'd fallen in [bed] with Malfoy, even if she was fighting for the good now. Girls can't sleep with people without emotion. Mindy, in Harry's opinion, may have been their greatest asset, but she was also their biggest risk. If any inflection of anything she said during pillow talk flicked any switches in Malfoy's head, it would be an insurmountable setback. But Ron and Ginny trusted the Slytherin girl unconditionally. "Yeah, but if we do anything to stop it, we may not be able to save that Gryffindor's life."  
  
"So we wait." Ron loosened his tie. "I'd almost rather sleep with Malfoy."  
  
(:)-=  
  
Ginny had enlisted the help of some Potions geeks in figuring out Malfoy's vials by fluttering some eyelash at them. But the only time they could be assured that no one would be prowling around the classrooms was during the Cogito. In the meantime, Hermione was acting so normal, it was abnormal. But nobody dared question her about it, lest she go back to being angry and depressive.  
  
(:)-=  
  
It's been said that the hardest thing to do is wait. And that's what Draco had to do. Wait until the next Monday. All the days in between felt blurry, light, nonexistent as he went to classes, studied for the Cogito, rolled around with Mindy. She didn't talk as much, and he was grateful not to have to think of things to say back. Sometimes, when he was alone, he would take out the little box, and staring at the vials the Technicolor would go back into the world. They sang evil little tunes to him. He felt thrills that had [almost] nothing to do with sex. Pure lust for violence, to feel someone squirm, to destroy their very soul . . . Soul? Anyway, to prick Granger until something righteous leaked out of her.  
  
(:)-=  
  
At the moment, Mindy was the object of Draco's pricking and it was awful. Before, of course, she had regretted it. Almost dreaded padding up the corridor to his room and knocking. But once inside, she had power. Mindy was one of the few teenage girls who understood the power they could take with their body, their innocence. In a way, she could thank Draco for her empowerment. But at the moment, she was locked in a little room with all the lights cut off. She wore her eyeliner darker, her lips were red, she wore stockings with garters and tried to be the girl she was before she met herself in the mirror and despised her reflection.  
  
Just a couple months ago, shopping in the city with a few friends, it got to be late and she saw them. The charmed girls, they called them, because they had to work so much magic to make sure they didn't get pregnant, sick, or worse. And she couldn't imagine people who bought and traded sex. Who used their bodies to get what they wanted.  
  
Now she was using the same spells. There was the small incantation to keep herself from being fertile, the little herbs that kept her from actually having her monthly in case he wanted her, and the wand waving just in case -- she had no idea where he had been before her. And Draco didn't even pay her money.  
  
To her friends, the ones she had left, he was her boyfriend. Only she knew that the small gifts he gave her were only to exert his power over her. To make her owe him more than she did just for sitting next to him and speaking to him while meeting his eyes. He was the perfect person according to everyone she knew. Like a flawless diamond. You can't love anyone without any little cracks to hold on to.  
  
But nobody could love anyone who is all cracks, she told herself, and the only way to hide them is to lay here underneath him. It was hard to be disgusted in this place, in this beautiful room, with this beautiful person being so intimate with her. This was supposed to be more than she could ever hope for.   
  
For the first time she could see outside her little trap. She was using him, fooling him into a false sense of security. Mindy had all the power, and he was her little puppy to play with. The words weren't as comforting as she thought they would be. In fact, they spurred whole new thoughts, overwhelming ones:  
  
Now you're just like him. Is that what you want?  
  
----------------------------------  
  
Author's note: Review me if you want another chapter. Otherwise, I'd be happy to spend my time knitting Hogwarts scarves and living in my imaginary world without shrimp. 


	10. Gotcha!

The Rape of the Lock  
  
Chapter Ten: Gotcha  
  
This story's rated 'R' because it's the only letter that Harry, Ron, and Hermione have in common. (Draco too!) Also for sex, violence, and language (which strangely enough don't have any 'r's).  
  
____________________________________________________________  
  
Although it was all that everyone was waiting for, when Monday came nobody was prepared.  
  
Hermione, for the first time in a week, went down to breakfast with everyone else. Ron, Harry, and Ginny felt like their guts itched and they weren't allowed to scratch. No matter how much they knew that what they were doing was for Hermione's good, if she found out she would murder them.  
  
Mindy sat next to Draco. He had been in a good mood lately, better and better as Monday came closer. The night before he had given her another present, slipped it under the door to her dormitory so that all the other girls would see. A little silver box with a green bow, almost too pretty to open. But the squealing dorm-mates looked over her shoulder and were so pointedly curious that she opened it immediately, and looked upon the bracelet inside with shock.  
  
It was his. A dragon wrapped into a circle. She'd seen him wear it before; he'd said it was from his father when he was small. What did that mean? Trying to delay saying anything to the little crowd of girls gathered around her bed, she turned it over in her hands. 'To my little dragon,' it was engraved. The note inside the box was short. "It doesn't fit me anymore. Thought you might fancy it. --D.M."  
  
She put it on, and it kept sliding up her arm until well past her elbow. This must have been how he'd worn it as a child.  
  
"It's so pretty," April whispered, in awe.  
  
Mindy turned it around on her arm, still silent.  
  
"I don't think it's all that great," Moira said haughtily. "It looks old."  
  
Kayla sidled next to Moira for a better view. "You're just jealous. That was his, wasn't it, Mindy?"  
  
Mindy nodded.  
  
"See?" Kayla looked proud of herself. "He really likes you."  
  
"What's he like, when you're alone?" April was Mindy's disciple. She worshipped Draco. But that didn't make her different from any other girl in Slytherin.  
  
Mindy wanted to laugh morosely, and say, 'hard.' She wanted to tell April and Kayla and Moira that he liked it rough and didn't give a shit about what she liked. That his parents and his attitudes had trained him into a life where he had no idea how to love, and that he was passing it on to her.   
  
"Different," she finally said. It wasn't exactly a lie. She slipped out to go see him, to prove to him that she deserved his castoffs.  
  
But after she stripped down to her skivvies and he sat on the side of the bed, he stopped her from even undoing his tie.  
  
"Let's talk, Min."  
  
She was stunned, positive that he was about to let her go permanently. But 'Min' was something new and unusual. He barely ever called her by her real name, let alone a pet name.  
  
"All right." She settled down and stretched out on the bed with her head in his lap. It was almost subconscious, but maybe if she looked this submissive, displayed his favorite parts, he would reconsider.  
  
To her amazement, he was almost smiling down at her. "Look at you," he teased. "All dressed up and no place to go." He touched the dragon bracelet. "It looks good on you."  
  
She grinned at him weakly, still unsure of the direction this was going. "I like it. It reminds me of you."  
  
"It's meant to. It was mine. But I'm not anyone's 'little' dragon anymore."  
  
They both smirked at the impropriety of the statement. "I suppose not." She stared up at the ceiling, a whirling mass of mythology with sparkling dragons cutting swaths through the imaginary sky. "I wish I were a dragon."  
  
"But you are." He trailed a hand down her arm from her shoulder, finally grabbing hold of her wrist possessively. "You're mine."  
  
He'd never spoken that way before. Mindy didn't know how to react, where to go. It felt so nice to hear the words that she didn't want to think about where they came from or what they meant. Being Draco Malfoy's little dragon was certainly better than being Mindy Kilbourne out on the street, and she just wanted to revel in it.  
  
She brought his hand up to her mouth and kissed the inside of his wrist as he beamed down at her.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------  
  
And Monday morning at breakfast, she refused to catch Ron Weasley's eye as he searched for hers across both their tables. The bracelet around her arm felt good, like having Draco's hand on her back all the time. The hand that had apparently beaten that Gryffindor seventh year into unconsciousness. But she was his.  
  
Gods, she was gorgeous. And four years younger than he was. Ron stopped trying to get her attention and focused back on his friends. "You guys looking forward to the Cogito tonight?"  
  
When there wasn't an answer, he glanced at Harry, who was staring across the table at Ginny, who was returning his gaze. "Oh, for the love of--"  
  
"Come on, Ron, let them enjoy it," Hermione chided him.  
  
"It's hard, you know. She's my sister, so I have to hate her boyfriends. But he's Harry."  
  
Hermione laughed. Then her face went blank for a moment. "Do you think Draco's kind of handsome?" She immediately put her hand over her mouth in surprise.  
  
Ron dropped his fork. "What? How the hell should I know?" He was probably a little louder than he meant to be, as people were turning in their seats to see if something good was going on.  
  
"I didn't mean to say that," Hermione said quietly, "I--" she fell silent.  
  
It was too bad that Ron had stopped scanning the Slytherin table, because he would have noticed Malfoy staring directly at Hermione with a satisfied expression.  
  
"Did you hear what she just said?" Ron asked Harry.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Never mind. You two would make the sop Olympics, really."  
  
"Jealous?" Hermione's lips curled into an evil grin.  
  
"No. You?" He matched her expression. They held serious faces for about a microsecond before breaking down into laughs. Ron was relieved that she was acting so normally. "Augh, Harry, that's not Ginny's foot."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------  
  
Harry suggested that he and Hermione go to the contest early, so that she wouldn't notice when Ginny didn't attend. "It's History tonight," Harry said, hoping to get Hermione talking.  
  
"Yeah," she said airily. Her mind was entirely on the contest, on what would happen, what would come out of her mouth standing in front of the entire school. Malfoy was too smart to give it away, but apparently he wanted to win this contest enough to kill. There was nothing doing. If he was willing to kill, she should at least be about to embarrass herself. She took a deep breath, preparing to do something so uncharacteristic as to admit her mistakes. "Harry, I-- something's happened." She paused, waiting for him to prompt her on, to approve of her.  
  
Harry, who had been staring at his lap, kept his slouch but turned his head up to her. "What?"  
  
"Malfoy . . ." suddenly she couldn't speak. She scanned the room and saw the blonde bastard walking toward the stage staring straight at her.  
  
"What, Hermione? Please."  
  
"Nothing."  
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes at Granger. He wasn't doing his job if she felt comfortable confessing all her sins to Potter. Trying to run a hand through his hair, he remembered he was holding hands with Mindy.  
  
It was the flip side of the power. He could devastate all those girls, leave piles of rubble in his wake and stride on to the next stop. But he could elevate, too. Build things. He had felt her slipping away. She was the smartest he'd ever . . . And maybe she was figuring it out. That she could be the first to leave him in the rubble. So he had to keep her, to bind her, lock her into his life. Now she would not leave. And that was kind of exciting as well.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------  
  
Sitting in the audience alone, Ron could concentrate on what was going on onstage. Hermione kept glancing over at Malfoy nervously, but the villain was preoccupied with Mindy. He wished he could figure all this out. 'Lay down one head forever from the pride . . .' What Harry had told him about the poem kept running through his head. When he wasn't entangled with all his friends, caught in between Ginny and Harry, Hermione and himself, it all became clear. Pour veritaserum down Hermione's throat and shake her until she talked. Do something dark and painful to Malfoy. Save Mindy from Slytherin. But it became so much more complicated in the real world. Malfoy held all the cards: the queen of diamonds and the queen of hearts. Ron was left bluffing with the Jack of shit while his best friend was under the table boffing his sister.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------  
  
Ginny sat on a stool in the potions laboratory waiting for the boys to figure out what the hell was in the vials.  
  
A bespectacled blonde boy leaned on the counter with his sleeves rolled up, making charts on a piece of parchment. "I've never seen anything like this. Where'd you get this?"  
  
"Does it matter?"  
  
The fourth year Ravenclaw kept making notes. "I suppose not."  
  
"These two test positive for everything in the two parts of Amicus Juice," the older boy said, frustrated. But they're red and purple. They're supposed to be yellow and green."  
  
"Well, what could make them change color, then?"  
  
"That's what we're working on." He sighed. "It seems like raspberry leaf tea."  
  
Ginny squinted at them. "You're joking."  
  
"No." the fourth year kept scribbling on the parchment.   
  
The little scratching noises were grating on Ginny's nerves. "Will you stop that and figure out what the hell they are already?"  
  
"This blue one's healing potion and coagulant, simple enough."  
  
"Okay," Ginny said. That made some amount of sense. "But what does tea have to do with anything?"  
  
"It's kind of . . . An unusual theory, but . . . There are things you can do to tea. Just some incantations."  
  
"To do what?"  
  
"Tea is a powerful tool. The muggles stole it from the ancient witches and wizards and had no idea what they were doing. Even our kind has almost forgotten everything it's capable of."  
  
"Yes, yes, get on with it."  
  
"Well, you know how you read tea leaves? It works because it soaks up your thoughts. It transmits what's intrinsically you, it's like a conductor for your thoughts, which, taken to their ultimate conclusions, are your future. So, in theory, you can use the tea backwards."  
  
"Backwards?"  
  
"Instead of projecting your thoughts into the tea, you can transmit into someone else's mind."  
  
"Telepathy," Ginny whispered, remembering the books in Malfoy's study.  
  
"Exactly. It's never been done like this, though. Combined with Amicus Juice, this could very possibly be telepathic suggestion."  
  
"So it is possible."  
  
The boy shrugged. "Someone's tried, at least." But he was talking to thin air as Ginny disappeared through the door.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------  
  
The contest had ended. Mindy had scored another ten points, but this time Draco had just hugged her to him and kissed the top of her head. He must have been distracted by his own success, two points ahead of Granger.  
  
"I'll see you later." He grabbed her upper arm, checking for the bracelet.  
  
She looked down at his hand demurely. "All right."  
  
He sat back down and she slipped behind the curtain.  
  
"Mindy!" a flushed Ginny whispered, walking up to her. "You'll never believe what he's doing!"  
  
"You'd be surprised."  
  
"We found these potions in his bedroom, and long story short, I think he's been controlling Hermione telepathically."  
  
"Wow, really?" Mindy asked, feeling in her pocket.  
  
"It's what --" Ginny was cut off when Mindy grabbed her, pinched her nose shut, and poured something red in her mouth that tasted vaguely of raspberries. She couldn't scream. If she wanted to breathe, she had to swallow. "Why'd you do that? Did he get you, too?"  
  
Mindy let go of the little red-haired girl and crossed her arms, feeling the little metal dragon underneath her shirt. Ginny ran back through the curtain, unknowingly right into Draco's eye line. Mindy grinned.  
  
"He got me," she said to herself.  
  
__________________________________________________________  
  
Author's note: The end is in sight! Mwahahahahaha! (Sorry Jessie, think you've already read this far) But to everyone, new chapter by tomorrah!  
  
Love, Hale Comet (we rock 'em and we sock 'em and we don't stop rockin the beat) 


End file.
